


the red city

by lqbys



Series: rather you than tequila [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 08:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16115099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lqbys/pseuds/lqbys
Summary: ‘Told ya we were going to get the full Morrocan experience. Which includes sweaty motherfucking cuddles.’





	the red city

‘Pass me the fucking ketchup.’

Minghao does, but not before fully expressing himself. He glares at the man eating in front of him, lips pulling down. ‘That’s disgusting. That’s absolutely barbaric.’

Mingyu’s already pouring sauce all over his pizza, and the blonde wonders why he even tries.

‘You know what we should do next?’ Minghao’s eyes meet his, before a wide grin takes over the man’s features. ‘Visit Morocco.’

Mingyu explains himself, chewing on mouthful of ketchup flavored marine pizza, and Minghao listens with narrowed eyes. Morocco’s all the way across the ocean but he knows it’s not going to stop Mingyu, not when he’s already speaking about sunset dripping gold over the horizon and the vastness of the Sahara. The restaurant’s a quiet little place, but he’s reviving everything around them.

‘Imagine getting some nice booze and fucking right under the stars.’ Mingyu’s grin stretches even wider. ‘Man, that’d be fucking amazing.’

The blonde shrugs. ‘We can do that here too.’

And we don’t even have the money for Morocco, you asshole - let alone moonshine and desert crusades, he thinks. 

‘No, you don’t get it, Hao. Have ya ever been to Maghrebian countries? You haven’t, but you’re going to, and then you’ll realize how fucking amazing it is to close your eyes and feel the sun on your skin with thousands of miles of golden waves ahead of you. Shit, you’re gonna love it so much.’

Minghao doesn’t know why, but Mingyu manages to steal a smile away from him — again. ‘It’s settled, then.’

‘Hell fucking yeah, it is.’

\- - - -

‘Hey. Breathe. You’re okay.’

Minghao tries. It’s harder than it looks – he feels like crying, puking, or both. At the same time, one after the other. Dying, too. 

The plane’s doing its thing, going straight ahead. It’s not the first time he’s flying. His first time on a plane, god – that was something. Humans aren’t meant to go flying around this high up in the sky, and his body made sure he knew that. Minghao cried, he did. Right now though, it’s just a distant fear in the pit of his stomach, fading anxiety. 

‘Could’ve fucking walked,’ he mutters, screwing his eyes shut.

Mingyu’s laugh eases the last of the tight knot in his gut. ‘Yeah, okay, Jesus. Let’s just do that next time.’ 

Eighteen hours of flight, around that. A tough one, but Minghao likes to think he’s tougher. _You’re flesh and bones. Your fear isn’t. Don’t be fucking stupid._

‘You’re making it so much worse for yourself. Just look.’ 

Mingyu’s hand finds his, fingers easily intertwining with his own. He doesn’t mind when Minghao squeezes until it’s painful: takes it silently. And when he does look through the tiny window, the sky is vast and limitless. A blue he’s never seen, sun filtering through huge, snow-white clouds. The universe’s way of daring him to doubt, like there isn’t any other truth than this one. 

‘See? It’s all good. You’re all good.’ 

Oxygen comes at him easier, then.

\- - - -

Mingyu didn’t lie when he said Morocco would be hot.

‘Fuck off.’

They’re wrestling again in their sleep, Minghao trying to squeeze away from Mingyu’s iron grip and Mingyu trying to alternatively push him away while pulling him to his body. They’re sweaty, a mess of tangled limbs, not wearing much, and surely they should’ve seen this coming — two grown men sharing a bed in one of the hottest countries in the world is one dumb idea. Temperatures never go down, even after the sun has long set, and they both knew it but still went against every rule set for the trip.

‘I’m going to cut you up,’ Minghao grumbles in his sleep, tries elbowing the other boy in the gut, but it’s no use; it only results in Mingyu shuffling closer. A strangled noise escapes his lips as he gives up. ‘You’re so fucking gross.’ 

‘Told ya we were going to get the full Morrocan experience. Which includes sweaty motherfucking cuddles.’

Mingyu did offer him the whole thing. At day, they visited amber castles and gladly downed drink after drink of honeyed wine in local restaurants. Mingyu’s accepted and loved every ray of sun as his skin darkened rather quick – its color a dazzling bronze, golden under the bright blue sky. They ate until bellyache, spicy sheep meat and sweetened rice, dates and juicy grapes. At times they sang with the sun-kissed children and danced with old ladies in colorful hijabs. And when they finally laid in their hotel room and tasted hot air even with the air conditioner, Minghao realized each night a little more he’s never known what his heart beat for until now.

He rolls his eyes, resting his head against the man’s chest.

‘Anyway. Ya better sleep. We’re gonna cross the fucking Sahara tomorrow.’

‘The fuck,’ Minghao grumbles. Rubs one tired eye, the sheer thought of walking across endless mountains of sand wearing him to the bone. ‘Oussama’s going to fucking blow us away.’

Mingyu does a weird sound at that. ‘You’re dumb, Hao. Obama splattered Oussama’s brains all over pakistani soil. We’re safe.’

‘You’re _dumb_. Have you ever payed attention in class? The Sahara desert is ISIS’ new dreamland. If they catch you, you’re on your own, cowboy.’

‘What, you mean, you’re not gonna come and save me?’ 

He doesn’t have to look to know Mingyu’s pouting, brown eyes sad and candide like he seriously believes Minghao wouldn’t fight the whole damn world, heaven and hell combined for his stupid, pretty, annoying face.

Digging his forehead against his ribs, he breathes sleepily. ‘No. Goodnight, outcast.’ 

Mingyu plants a kiss on the side of his head seconds before he’s dozing off. Minghao soon follows, heart warmer than any city anywhere in the world.

\- - - -

‘Oh my fucking god.’ 

‘Don’t move, don’t move!’ 

‘Oh my fucking _god_ , I’m gonna die.’ 

Minghao’s almost pissing himself from laughter. Mingyu _squeals_ , the sound ridiculous coming from him – holding on the camel’s hump like his life depends on it. The poor Moroccan man tries to reassure the guy in a singing English, rolling _Rs_ and adding emphasis where there’s no need. Mingyu doesn’t even speak English properly, so this – he doesn’t get any of it. 

His eyes are wide as they search Minghao’s for comfort, but narrow as soon as he catches sight of him. 

‘Don’t you fucking dare filming this!’ He shouts, and people around cast them concerned. 

When Minghao finally mounts as well, he’s wiping tears off his cheeks.

 

\- - - -

 

They ride to the horizon until the sun is bleeding red and harsh desert winds appear. They didn’t go far, just enough to see the golden sea and meet its people. Sometimes, Minghao would catch Mingyu looking at him, smiling ear to ear, and Mingao would give one right back. 

On their way home, they ate local dishes in town and played football barefoot with the kids on the streets. Laughed and listened to thousand years old stories and legends, learnt some French and more Darja, the local dialect. Mingyu called him _habibi_ all the way back to the hotel, and Minghao pretended he heard none.

That night, he doesn’t fight Mingyu off when they sleep. Wraps himself around him whole, lets Mingyu seize his waist and snore loudly.

‘Hey.... dude, bro, habibi,’ he stops, snores some more. ‘I looob’ you.’ 

Mingyu’s already half-asleep, drooling, face squished against his abdomen. It’s disgusting, but Minghao’s cheeks are still red and his smile comes easy. 

‘Yeah. Love you too.’


End file.
